Let me recall that fair and soft evening, in the early September, when Henry and I, with hand clasped in hand, sat together upon the little balcony. How sweet-scented was the gale that fanned our brows! The air was soft and balmy, and the sweet serenity of the hour was broken only by that ever-pleasant music of the gently-roaring falls! Fair and queenly sailed the uprisen moon, through a cloudless sea of blue, whilst a few faint stars, like fire-flies, seemed flitting round her. Long we talked of the happiness that awaited us on the morrow. Henry had arranged to meet his master, Mr. Graham, on that day, and make the final payment. "Dearest, I lack but fifty dollars of the amount," he said, as he laid his head confidingly on my shoulder. "Ten of which I can give you." "And the remaining forty I will make up," said Miss Nancy as she stepped out of the door, and, placing a pocket-book in Henry's hand, she added, "there is the amount, take it and be happy." Whilst he was returning thanks, I went to get my contribution. Drawing from my trunk the identical ten-dollar note that good Mr. Trueman had given me, I hastened to present it to Henry, and make out the sum that was to give us both so much joy. "Here, Henry," I exclaimed, as I rejoined them, "are ten dollars, which kind Mr. Trueman gave me." Miss Nancy sighed deeply. I turned around, but she said with a smile: "How different is your life now from what it was when that money was given you." "Yes, indeed," I answered; "and, thanks, my noble benefactress, to you for it." "Let me," she continued, without noticing my remark, "see that note." I immediately handed it to her. Could I be mistaken? No; she actually pressed it to her lips! But then she was such a philanthropist, and she loved the note because it was the means of bringing us happiness. She handed it back to me with another sigh. "When he gave it to me, he bade me receive it as his contribution toward the savings I was about to lay up for the purchase of myself. Now what joy it gives me to hand it to you, Henry." He was weeping, and could not trust his voice to answer. "And Ann shall soon be free. Next week we will all start for the North, and then, my good friends, your white days will commence," said Miss Nancy. "Oh, Heaven bless you, dear saint," cried Henry, whose utterance was choked by tears. Miss Nancy and I both wept heartily; but mine were happy tears, grateful as the fragrant April showers! "Why this is equal to a camp-meeting," exclaimed Louise, who had, unperceived by us, entered the front-door, passed through the hall, and now joined us upon the portico. Upon hearing of Henry's good fortune, she began to weep also. "Will you not let me make one of the party for the North?" she inquired of Miss Nancy. "Certainly, we shall be glad to have you, Louise; but come, Henry, get your banjo, and play us a pleasant tune."